Driftin' Blues
by funnypain
Summary: Alternate Universe. Naomi and Emily casually meet while they are both in Ireland.
1. In Bray

It was a chilly September morning and the beach was practically deserted. Naomi walked down the promenade, sipping on her coffee and grinning at the usual twenty-something black crows which were standing on their patch of grass, frozen still like in that Hitchcock movie.

Resting the paper cup on the ground, Naomi took off her shoes, tied two shoestrings together, and slung the shoes over her shoulder. Then, she climbed down from the promenade and slowly made her way towards the water. Perhaps it was too cold for that kind of thing, but she found that mile-long beach irresistibly peaceful, with its lazy waves rolling around the pebbles in the shore.

The truth was that in general Bray agreed with her. The town had a relaxed cadence about it and its old seaside resort status implied that there were many foreign people coming and going. Presently, Naomi felt anything but constant, fixed, and solid. Nothing seemed permanent to her, and so it seemed that she had found the perfect place to run away to. Rationally, she knew that trying to disappear wasn't the answer. She couldn't just switch countries and call it a solution. Among other things, it could only be temporal.

Her toes grazed the surface of the icy water and Naomi couldn't help but grimace. Still, she submerged her feet and kept walking, taking in the view of Bray Head, the hill belonging to the Wicklow Mountains ahead. It was absolutely beautiful.

The wind blew her hair over face and she paused to tie it into a ponytail, holding the edge of the paper cup between her teeth. Then, she spotted a particularly bright shade of red which made her stop. The huddled shape looked like a person, a red-haired girl, sitting Buddha-like among the pebbles, distant, motionless. The only active part of her was her red hair, which was flailing in the wind and the girl was doing nothing to stop it.

Naomi tilted her head slightly and kept walking, her eyes still on the girl. The redhead was wearing a long, dark-blue fleece sweater which she had stretched over her bunched-up knees, and so Naomi could only see part of her jeans and her bare feet. A pair of white trainers was neatly set to the side. The girl had also stretched the sleeves of her sweater to hide her hands completely.

Suddenly realizing that she hadn't had an actual conversation with anyone since she had stepped foot in Ireland, Naomi felt the strangest desire to talk to that girl. But why her? Why now? She hadn't felt the need to socialize before. On the contrary, she usually felt most comfortable in solitude, roaming the beach or Bray Head's dusty, scenic walks. Hadn't she fled her home country to be really, truly alone? So what was this desire to speak to this person?

_You know better than to speak to somebody who clearly wants to be alone._

"Hi," she said, despite herself, wondering if the girl would hear her over the sound of the waves. If she didn't, Naomi swore she would keep walking and never attempt to talk to her again. The embarrassment was too great.

The redhead turned her head to look at her at once, as if she had known all along that Naomi was standing there.

"Hi," the girl said.

Now what? She had spoken to her on impulse, a mysterious, overwhelming urge, and now she didn't know what to do with it.

"It's a bit chilly, but it's nice, isn't it?" _Yeah, that's it, talk about the weather like an old lady_.

"Yeah, I kind of love mornings like this." The girl's voice was raspy but kind. "Got a fag?"

"Uh, sure…" Naomi rummaged her pockets, found the pack, and extracted two cigarettes.

Walking towards the girl, seeing her closer, Naomi thought there had never been a skin so white and so perfect. As the redhead reached out for the cigarette, her fingers surfaced from inside the sleeve. She had short nails, painted dark purple. Naomi then handed her the lighter and, with the cigarette between her lips, the girl murmured her thanks.

There was a pause, in which they both puffed on their cigarettes and looked at the calm waters before them. Conversely, Naomi's insides were in hysterics. She didn't know whether she should keep on talking or just leave. Choosing the safer, second option, she started to turn away.

"Well, uh… I guess it was nice meeting you."

"We haven't."

"What?" she faced the redhead again.

"We haven't really met, have we?" the girl shook her right hand free from the sweater's sleeve and stretched out her arm. "I'm Emily."

"Naomi." She reached down to shake her hand and felt a peculiar tingle on the tips of her cold fingers.

"Pleasure," Emily said, simply.

"Likewise," Naomi nodded, her eyes darting this way and that. "So, I guess I got to keep going, you know…. I got stuff to do. See you around, Emily."

Only when she had already started to walk away, she heard a very faint "See ya" coming from behind her back.


	2. The Porter House

There were bunch of Spanish kids taking pictures of a beautiful, red brick building which now seemed to contain a McDonald's. Their holiday was drastically different from hers. Naomi sat on the steps of the dragon-shaped stone fountain before the building and lit up a cigarette. She had gone out to explore, finally managing to extract herself from Strand Road, which was the street which ran parallel to the coastline. There was more than that. In fact, the town itself was gorgeous.

She had tried to distract her mind, but her thoughts jerked back to the strange meeting with the red-haired girl. She still didn't understand the sudden impulse to talk to her or why she made her so nervous. What she did know was that it was a complication she didn't need. If she ever saw the redhead again, which was more than probable, she would greet her politely and keep walking, like the perfect strangers they were.

With her mind made up, Naomi stood up, dusted off her behind, and kept walking down Main Street. Her thoughts drifted to common, everyday things, such as what to purchase for dinner, since she had forgotten the bloody grocery list stuck to the refrigerator. However, upon reaching a bookstore, she thought she saw the face of a familiar person exiting the store. _Emily_. Naomi turned around, deciding that she didn't even want to say "hi", pulled down her wool cap to cover her blonde hair as much as possible, and marched down the street.

_Maybe she didn't see me. I think she didn't or she would've called out. Unless she saw me hiding. That would be horrible… I could go back, though, and say something like "Hey, I thought I saw you". No, that's so spazzy…_

Sinking her fists deep into her jacket pockets, she resolved to keep on walking, the purchase of dinner all but forgotten. Where was her determination, her intention of greeting Emily politely and then calmly moving on with her life? She had escaped from home to avoid troubled and complicated thoughts at least for a while, so what was this? Should she run away yet again? What kind person had to run away from their hiding place? _A complete basket case_, she concluded. Besides, the apartment lease was all paid for, and she adored the town. Wasn't it easier to learn to act like the adult she was?

Naomi reached the small jewelry store close to her apartment and felt better immediately, both because she was almost home and because she adored those antique shops, full of curious little things, each carrying their own little story. Smiling at the contents of the red shelves behind the glass, Naomi was barely aware that someone had exited the store and was now standing beside her.

"Hey there."

No way. It was impossible. Biting her lower lip, Naomi faced the owner of the voice and confirmed all her fears when she saw that it was Emily, wearing a black leather jacket and holding a motorcycle helmet under her arm. Now that they were both standing up, she noticed that the girl was shorter than her, and seeing her up close made Naomi considerably more nervous.

"Hey." She twisted her lips into an uneasy smile. "What are you doing here?"

"I was getting my necklace fixed. Why? Do you live nearby?"

"Yeah, I'm staying just around the corner."

"No need to offer you a ride then," the redhead said, jerking her head in the direction of a shabby, bright orange scooter with colorful streamers dangling from the handlebars.

"Is that yours?"

"Yep." As if she wanted to prove it, Emily slid the helmet on and patted it several times to make sure her head had gone all the way in.

"It's, um… quirky," Naomi said, blurting out the first adjective that came to mind.

"I love driving around in it. Makes you feel so free."

Something inside told to get away from those explicit proclamations of feeling. "Yeah… Well, it was nice seeing you again."

"Are you in a hurry?" the girl asked, while she pulled the scooter keys out of her pocket.

_Yes. Tell her yes. Up to your ears in… paperwork, or something. Stuff to do, people to see… Cats. Cats to tend to, and you'll be the crazy cat lady and she'll never speak to you again._ "Why?"

"Well, you know, people take things at a slower pace here, and I've gotten used to it. If you stay a while you'll get into it too. It's nice."

"I am relaxed," Naomi said, defensively, shoving her hands inside her pockets.

The redhead slowly swung her head from side to side, just looking at her with a kind of goofy smile. "So, are you busy right now?"

"Why?"

"I was asking in case you'd like to come for a ride anyway."

_What?_ "Emily, we, uh, we hardly know each other."

"That's the point."

"Look, I kind of came here to be… by myself, to clear my mind."

The redhead nodded, as if she understood everything now. "Still, it's just a drink and a chat. Nothing big."

The truth was that Naomi felt the urge to talk to the girl again, and it was taking everything in her not to comply. However, she still didn't understand it; she never felt sudden impulses about anything -even this Irish escapade had been something born out of reflection-, so this need to be around this stranger puzzled her to no end and scared her. _It is just a drink and a chat, though_, another part of her mused_. What's the problem?_

Emily was waiting patiently, perhaps not wanting to interrupt her thought process. They had barely spoken, and yet, the redhead seemed to understand the way Naomi's mind worked, to know that giving her space and time to think was a good idea.

"Fuck it," she murmured to herself, which made Emily's smile widen.

Surely taking it as a confirmation, the redhead turned, climbed on her scooter, and started it. Despite having accepted the invitation, Naomi approached the scooter slowly. She inspected the space that Emily had left for her to sit on and then mounted the vehicle. She held up her hands awkwardly, not knowing where to put them.

"Here, you wear this."

"Nah, it's all right," Naomi said, pulling her cap even lower.

"Next time, I'll remember to bring an extra helmet."

Naomi frowned. Talking about a next time already?

"There's a nice pub on Strand Road, The Porter House, you must've seen it. Wanna go there?"

"Sure."

"Okay. Now, hold on!"

Hold on? To what? Naomi followed the girl's back with her eyes and stopped at her slim waist. Wasn't that kind of intimate? Hesitantly, she placed her hands on Emily's hips, where her leather jacket ended and her jeans began.

And they were off. It was a short trip and they could have easily done it on foot, but Emily was right, it was a liberating sensation. The two-story and three-story buildings flashed past them, and Naomi could see the beach right in front of them, with its already-dark, messy waters. She gripped the girl's waist tighter, one of her fingers snaking under the hem of her jacket, with a life of its own.

It was anticlimactic, when Emily stopped the scooter and turned it off. Naomi wanted more, but she didn't dare protest. After all, there was still the ride back. Her cheeks felt hot and cold at the same time, but part of her didn't care. They dismounted and Emily pulled off her helmet and shook her head like in a shampoo advert. It was the second time that she saw Emily's bright red hair flying in every direction, out of control, and she stored it in her mind as a beautiful image.

"Shall we?" asked the girl, jerking her head in the pub's direction.

The Porter House was one of the buildings running parallel to the coastline. Naomi had seen it many times during her walks along the beach but had never actually been inside. It had a large terrace with wooden picnic tables which were perfectly aligned into two groups, with an ample corridor between them. It was the sort of place where you could see people lounging with their pints from morning to night.

They found an empty spot on one of the tables and Naomi sat, but Emily didn't. She insisted on going for the order herself.

"What's your poison?"

"Guinness," Naomi answered with zest, because she loved its toasted flavor. "Half a pint."

"Coward," the redhead remarked, letting out a cackle.

"All right, then, a pint, but I'm paying."

"No way, I'm the one who dragged you here. You stay, defend my seat with your life, and take care of my stuff." Emily patted her helmet, dropped the keys on the table, in front of Naomi, and left.

She drummed her fingers on the table, nervously. Emily's absence made her reflect about what she was doing, which went against everything her common sense instructed her to do. Also, what kind of person invited another for a drink after only a couple of casual meetings? What kind of person left the keys to their motorbike for a stranger to protect? Naomi picked up the keys and rolled them around between her fingers. Then, she paused to examine the rectangular, metallic keychain, and the air caught in her throat.

It was a fucking gay flag.

_There you go. There's your answer. What kind of person invites another for a drink after only a couple of meetings? A gay person. A gay person who is interested in you. _Naomi dropped the keys on the table like they were on fire and brought a hand up to her mouth. Was Emily going to try something? She lowered her eyes to examine her attire, dumbly wondering if she had been wearing anything that could have given Emily the wrong impression.

Seeing nothing particular about her clothes, she looked up, just in time to see the girl approaching the table with a big smile on her face and carrying one pint of Guinness and another of Murphy's. Red beer for the redhead.

Naomi didn't know what to say, what to do. She smiled shyly, muttered a feeble "thanks", and gulped down most of her pint for courage.

"Cheers," Emily said, raising her glass and smiling at her like she had done something funny.

"Sorry..." Naomi wiped the foam from her upper lip with one finger and clinked her glass against Emily's. "Cheers."

"So, Naomi, the unavoidable and completely unoriginal question... What's an English girl like you doing in Ireland?"

Her insides jumped as the redhead spoke, even though it was a perfectly harmless question and the first one anybody would ask in that sort of situation. It was just the way she had pronounced her name, like it was something special. That had never happened before.

"Well, I'm on vacation. You?"

"I've been living here for a while now. So, how's traveling alone?"

Frowning for a moment, she considered the question. It was harmless enough; the girl surely wasn't implying anything hurtful, but Naomi's alarm system was up and running. She traveled alone because she was alone, and felt it. Loneliness was her disease and she really didn't want to confront it, not in that particular moment, and not ever.

That was the negative thing about conversations: that they were fueled by questions, and questions only led to more personal questions.

"It's fine, I guess. I like it," she shrugged and sipped on her beer.

"Traveling alone… I think that's kind of brave," Emily girl said, nodding slightly, her brown eyes turning to look at the ocean ahead.

"Are you here with someone?" she asked, wanting to shift the focus of the conversation away from her.

"My sister. She met this Irish football player and moved here. I wasn't doing anything particularly interesting, so I came with her."

"From the Bray Wanderers, or whatever they're called?"

The girl chuckled. "That's right. You're staying right next to the field, aren't you?"

"Yeah, almost. I kind of like the name. Wanderers."

"Why? Are _you_ a wanderer?"

The beer was helping to ease her down. She returned the redhead's grin. "I'm more of a drifter."

"That reminds me of a very beautiful, very old song, and no, I'm not gonna sing, you really wouldn't want that. It goes something like, 'I've been driftin' and driftin', like a ship out on the sea'."

It did sound like her. She nodded, making a mental note to look it up, and fumbled with her cigarette pack.

"This holiday of yours… What's it really about?" Emily asked, accepting the cigarette that Naomi was offering her.

_Running away from everything and everyone. _"It's about resting."

"Your body or your mind?" the redhead asked, smirking knowingly.

"My mind…" Naomi raised a finger to her temple. "It never really stops."

"I can see that." Emily downed the remains of her pint. "Do you want another?"

"I better not. I don't want to sound stupid."

"Stupid is good, sometimes."

"Not for me."

The redhead shrugged. "Just thinking about slowing down that mind of yours."

_She _is_ going to try something_, Naomi mused, her eyes darting to the side. _Why else would she want to slow down my mind? Is she going to start flirting with me now?_

Perhaps detecting her uneasiness, Emily picked up the keys to her scooter. "Do you want me to take you home?"

Naomi nodded and they walked out of the terrace and into the street, where the little orange scooter was parked. She climbed on it after the redhead and circled her waist with her arms, telling herself that, in her tipsy state, she was scared to fall off. In reality, however, there was something happening to her. The relief she had felt about going home now vanished.

As they rode, parallel to the coastline, Naomi realized that she was afraid because this unknown girl seemed to know her quite well, but not in a creepy way. It was like an instinct, strange, but real. Having somebody who knew her made her less invisible, less ethereal, and so her chest felt heavy.

She was leaning against Emily's back and, for the first time, was able to smell her: the penetrating scent of leather and the fresh, lavender perfume of her shampoo. Feeling intoxicated by more than the beer, Naomi closed her eyes, and only blinked them open when the redhead stopped the scooter.

"See?" Emily asked, as Naomi dismounted. "Just a drink and a chat, no harm done."

_That's what you think._

"Is this where you live?"

"Yeah, right there, the house with the yellow door."

"Looks nice."

"Yeah…" She shuffled her feet nervously and glanced over her shoulder at her place. "So…"

"So. Good night."

"Good night. And thanks for the beer." Naomi said, shaking the girl's outstretched hand and feeling a kind of shock from the brief contact.

"Listen…" the redhead began, when Naomi had already turned around. "I work at Finnbees, on Main Street, the one closest to the old town hall - you know, the brick building with the dragon fountain."

"Finnbees, yeah, it's a coffee place. I walked past it earlier, I think. Orange on the outside, is it?"

"That's the one. I've got an early shift tomorrow, but if you'd like to go by later, I can promise you no free coffee or muffins, but the pleasure of my company."

Smirking to avoid a definite answer, Naomi offered her half a nod, and then jogged towards the house. She opened the door, closed it behind her, and leaned on it, feeling out of breath. "What are you doing?"


	3. Finnbees

The coffee shop had a small C-shaped terrace enclosed by oval-shaped glass panels. Naomi paced around it, smoking her fifth cigarette. _Are you really planning on pursuing this, whatever "this" is?_ But there was no real plan, even though she was trying her best to be rational about the situation. There was a certain red-haired girl who affected her, who might be interested in her… No, she couldn't digest that.

What if she left? It wouldn't be so bad, would it? After all, she hadn't confirmed her presence. It bothered her that her mind felt blurry, but, thinking about Emily, who had to be finishing up her work just inside that door, paralyzed her and made her stay. Now, could she go inside?

There was a middle-aged man sitting at one of the tables, eyeing her meanly because she had been walking around, puffing on her cancer sticks for half an hour. Scrunching up her nose, Naomi blew a cloud of smoke where the face of the man would have been if not for the glass panel between them. Then, she stepped on the cigarette butt and walked into the coffee shop, for that little twinge of anger had given her the resolve she had lacked before.

Naomi strolled towards the cluttered counter and glanced around, trying to locate Emily before the girl spotted her. However, as soon as she felt a slight touch on her shoulder, she knew that she was done for. No preparation; Emily had seen her first. She turned around and couldn't help but smile warmly at the sight. The girl was wearing a black shirt, a black cap, and a long, orange apron, and her crimson hair was tied into a ponytail, which allowed her to see a series of piercings running down her right ear. She looked so small and cute that Naomi felt her brain turned to mush.

"Hey, you came."

"Hey. When do you finish here?"

"As soon as I take your order, Miss," the girl said, with a professional tone, walking behind the counter.

"Hmm…" Naomi raised her eyes to the panels above Emily's head, trying to decide what to choose. "Cappuccino, I guess. Small, or whatever fancy name this place uses instead."

"Anything else, Miss?"

"Yeah. Whatever you, uh…" she bent forward, pretending to read Emily's tiny nametag. "Emily. Whatever you want to drink, Emily."

"Two _small_ cappuccinos, then. To go, Miss?"

"Guess so?" she asked, handing Emily a ten euro note.

"You guessed correctly. Oh, and would you kindly wait for me while I change? I won't be a minute."

"Sure, Emily."

She watched the redhead pass the order on to another girl and vanish behind a steel door. Even with Emily gone for the moment, her smile didn't fade, but hardened on her lips. Who knew she could have fun so simply, so easily?

When Emily reappeared, wearing normal clothes and holding a paper bag, skipping to meet her, Naomi's smile renewed magically.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked, when they exited the coffee shop.

"Plan?" Emily asked back. Then, she held up the paper bag. "You, me, coffee?"

"All right," Naomi shook her head. "I meant, where do you want to go drink it?"

Her only answer was a grin. Mentally surrendering her will to a force more powerful than herself, Naomi followed the girl to her orange scooter. This time, Emily had brought a second helmet, which she handed to her and then climbed on the bike. Naomi pushed the heavy helmet over her head and positioned herself behind Emily, facing the eternal conflict of where to put her hands and finally placing them on the girl's hips.

They rode to the coast, took off their shoes on the promenade, and climbed down to the pebbled beach. Of course. Here, she had seen Emily for the first time and, if she hadn't been insane enough to speak to her, none of this would have happened. On that first day, the redhead had seemed a kindred spirit, even in the distance, but the thing that puzzled Naomi was that it was proving to be true: the girl seemed to know her naturally, how to treat her and how to make her smile.

The redhead found a spot she thought to be nice and promptly plopped down on the pebbles. Naomi contemplated her surroundings for a moment before bending her knees and sitting next to the girl, although not too close. There was a group of children down at the shore, splashing water and squealing both in shock and glee every time a drop of cold water touched their skin.

"So, coffee?" Emily opened the paper bag and handed Naomi her cup.

The beverage was still delightfully warm. "Hmm, not bad."

"You sound surprised. Who do you think we are, Starbucks? Oh, by the way, I lied to you."

"What? About what?"

"About the free muffins. I did manage to sneak a couple in the bag." The girl smiled cheekily and produced two chocolate chip muffins.

"Thanks!"

"You're welcome," the redhead said, sinking her teeth into hers.

The ocean seemed to mellow them down, and they stayed in silence for a little while, chewing and sipping on their cappuccinos. When she was done, Naomi anchored her now empty paper cup to the pebbled ground between them so they could use it as an ashtray.

"Peaceful, huh?" Emily asked, breaking the silence.

"Yeah."

"I'm so glad I came here. I love this place."

"I love this, I love that", Emily had already voiced out loud her loves several times like it was no big deal, or rather, like she didn't mind giving away that part of her. On the contrary, Naomi hardly used the word "love" out loud or expressed profound emotion because she considered that part of her private. And it should stay private.

Emily was staring straight ahead, puffing on her cigarette and seemingly at ease with the entire universe. Something about that suddenly infuriated Naomi, perhaps because the redhead was capable of achieving such a state of serenity while Naomi's insides were beginning to jump around. There was something about Emily that made her want to be around her, and this strange effect caused her to steal quick glances at her face.

It was all the redhead's fault, for appearing to know her when she didn't know her at all, for asking her questions and reminding her that she had a body and a back-story, when all she wanted was to be no one.

"So, I saw your keychain last night," Naomi began, her voice shaky and unfamiliar even to her.

The girl turned towards her with raised eyebrows. "And?"

"And, where you going to tell me that you're _gay_ anytime soon?"

There was a small pause, but Emily recovered pretty quickly. "Oh, I'm sorry, do we need to come with a warning now?"

She shook her head. That hadn't come out right. "Don't be silly."

"I'm not being silly."

"So, you _are_ gay."

"Gay as a window. Maybe we need to start again… Hello, I'm Emily, and I'm gay." The girl seized her hand and shook it in mock greeting. "Is that better?"

"Come on, don't treat me like I'm some backward homophobe."

"Aren't you?"

"Jesus, certainly not!" she glanced down at her hands and started playing with a handful of pebbles, letting them slip between her fingers. "I'm sorry, all right? I just didn't want you to get the wrong idea."

"I may be gay, but that doesn't mean I'm going to jump every single girl I meet. Just so you know, my first thought when I see you is not 'I want to fuck that girl'."

"No, I-"

"It's nice just _being_ with you. When you're not being a _prick_, that is."

She opened her mouth to contradict her, but then realized that the girl was right. "I'm sorry, Emily. I _am_ being a bit of a dick."

"Yeah, you are. A complete dick."

"I wouldn't… I wouldn't say that much." Naomi buried her toes in the cold pebbles, wishing she could do the same with the rest of her body and disappear from sight. "I'm sorry."

The redhead looked away and shook her head. She was hugging her bunched up legs tightly and remained silent for some minutes. "Look, I'm a bit defensive because coming out was no bed of roses. My mum still likes to pretend that I'm straight, and my sister… let's just say that the teasing hasn't ended yet."

"I'm sorry," Naomi repeated.

"It's not all bad. My younger brother sends me porn magazines for time to time."

Wondering if she had heard correctly, Naomi turned to the redhead. The girl was grinning now, a contagious kind of grin. Was the crisis over?

"Really? My God, that must be so traumatizing."

Emily shrugged, looking at her with a playful glint in her eyes, which made Naomi breathe out in relief. So she hadn't completely fucked up, even though she still felt like a prick. To upset the redhead had been the least of her intentions; she had only wanted the overwhelming sensation to stop by blowing some sense into whatever it was that they were doing. Of course Emily could be gay and not go after her, but why did it still feel that way?

_That _was the problem, how it felt for her.


	4. Lower Dargle Road

An invitation to supper? Slowly, Naomi laid back among the pebbles to mull over the offer. She had been just trying to understand what was going on, and had almost fucked it all up in the process, but then, magically, Emily had fixed it, with her sense of humor, of all things. Her younger brother sending her porn was too wicked to picture, but too funny not to alleviate some of the tension.

Stretching out her arms and glancing at the girl's silhouette, she found that, if she tilted her head slightly to the side, she could look at Emily's back without being blinded by the sun. Her straight, red hair was falling over her shoulders in an orderly manner, with the exception of a rebellious strand which had caught on the hood of her purple sweater. With half-closed eyes, Naomi reached out to pluck it free, an instinctive act.

The girl turned to her with a puzzled expression, but Naomi said nothing. Her words had done enough harm, and now she just wanted to enjoy the quiet. Words were too complicated right now, and living in the little corner of the world that was Bray had taught her that she should appreciate the simplicity of silence.

"You all right?" the redhead asked, before softly sinking to the ground beside her.

"Yeah."

"So… supper?"

Naomi moved her head less than an inch, enough to glimpse the tips of Emily's eyelashes, nose, and lips. "At yours, you say?"

"Yeah… Well, if that's okay."

After the conversation they'd just had, she thought that hardly anything had the potential of being comfortable or "okay". Nevertheless, she couldn't imagine parting with the girl now. Was there really anything to ponder? Brave, little Emily had found the courage to ask her, even though Naomi had come off as a complete jerk about the gay thing. It was astounding, really, the extent to which her rebuttals did _not_ impress Emily.

Naomi pushed herself up to a sitting position and sunk her fingers up to her knuckles in pebbles. It was all part of the same problem: this improbable, impossible understanding they had shared from the start and her need to get closer, but controlling the distance. Still, it was all quite harmless, wasn't it? She was the one making it complicated.

When she looked at the redhead, she saw her smiling. "What?"

"Nothing. Should we go?"

Pressing her lips into a tight smile, Naomi nodded and stood up. She bent down to retrieve her shoes and felt a sharp tap on her shoulder that made her jump. _What the…?_ When she turned around, she saw that the redhead was just standing there, with her hands behind her back.

"Was that you?"

"No," Emily said, innocently, and then threw a second pebble straight at her, hitting her stomach.

"Hey!"

She scooped a fistful of pebbles and tossed them at Emily, making the girl squeal and skip out of harm's way, although some of the little rocks did reach her ankles. Naomi immediately crouched to gather more ammunition, but the redhead was already showering her like a maniac.

Shrieking and laughing at the same time, Naomi dropped the stones she was holding between her hands and lunged at Emily, who hadn't expected that, and only had time to turn around before Naomi reached her. She circled the girl's waist with her arms and lifted her, causing them to collapse.

They tumbled down into a giggly mess of entangled limbs. Naomi managed to extract one of her hands to nurse the back of her head. "Ow! Oh, God, that hurt."

The redhead responded with a husky chuckle and attempted to get up, but failed, automatically dropping on the ground with a yelp. A bright red curtain of hair covered Naomi's face, and she kept completely still, because it was even touching her parted lips. She waited until the girl managed to disentangle herself, and then sat up.

"You all right? No internal injuries?" Emily asked.

"Nothing. Not even a bloody nose," she answered, combing back her blonde hair with her fingers. "That wasn't too bad actually, for a war."

Laughter, actual laughter, and an authentic, soul-deep smile: those had been the only collateral damages. Her cheekbones actually ached.

They staggered towards the promenade and climbed out of the beach. Naomi felt high as a kite as she slung a leg over the scooter and sat behind Emily. She bumped her helmet against Emily's in a playful manner and then looked up at the nearly cloudless sky.

Suddenly, she became aware of something. Her left hand was grasping her own right forearm, which could only mean that she was surrounding Emily's waist, and quite tightly at that. She was, in fact, pressed against the redhead, and had done it without even noticing, like the most natural thing in the world.

After the initial shock, a hard but tiny, almost invisible smile appeared on her lips. _What are you doing?_ The question surfaced in her mind for the millionth time and once more she put off the tiresome task of answering it.

The little orange scooter took them down the road parallel to the Dargle River and then crossed the old, stone bridge to Lower Dargle Road. Naomi hadn't explored that far yet, but she had roamed the river bank and had enjoyed the sight of its overflowing vegetation.

After a couple of turns, they got to a residential area and Emily stopped the bike in front of a two-story brick house with a white door.

"So, here we are," Emily said, opening the door on the black iron fence which surrounded the house.

"Pretty."

"I guess… I didn't really choose it. My sister did."

As soon as the redhead opened the front door, Naomi heard loud party music coming from somewhere inside.

"Shit, she's home." Emily threw her head back, with a pained expression on her face.

"Your sister?"

"Yeah... I thought she'd be out with Sean."

"The football player?"

"That's right."

Naomi shuffled her feet. They were standing just inside the front door, awkwardly holding their helmets, and she didn't know what to do with herself. So what if she was home? If Emily didn't want her to meet her sister, they could have easily gone someplace else. Besides, if anyone had the right to be nervous, it was her.

"Fuck it, who cares?" the redhead looked at her. "Sorry, I'm a shit hostess. Please, come in, you can leave your stuff in there."

The big area that looked like the living room was spacious and had two large, white sofas, several leather armchairs, and a huge flat-screen TV. Naomi dumped her helmet and jacket on the closest chair.

"It's nice."

Emily shrugged. "This is all my sister."

Suddenly, the music stopped and there was someone coming down the stairs, and, by the sound of it, that certain someone was wearing high heels.

"Emily?"

When the owner of the voice entered the living room, Naomi had to do a double take. She was like a carbon copy of Emily, although dressed very differently, all pearls and combinations of leopard prints. Of course! The day before, she thought she had seen Emily coming out of a bookstore, but that must have been her twin sister!

"I thought I heard you talking to some-" The girl stopped short when she saw Naomi, gave her the once-over, and turned to Emily. "And who's this?"

"Excuse me?" Naomi asked. She was not one to take shit from anybody, and she did not like this girl's tone, not one bit.

"She's Naomi. Naomi, this is my sister Katie."

Katie glanced at her again and gave a little, dismissive nod. "Well, congratulations. Looks like you've found the only other lezzer in town."

"She's not gay."

"I'm not gay."

"She's not my girlfriend."

"I'm not her girlfriend."

"Whatever," Katie barked out a dismissive laugh at their interactive denial. "I'm off. I'm taking the car."

"The fucking car's yours," Emily said. "Leave already."

"Oh, that's right, I forgot you had the Emily-mobile now! Well, I'll leave you girls to it."

"About time…" the redhead grumbled.

Before disappearing through the front door, Katie poked her head inside and looked straight at Naomi. "By the way, I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you, babes. My sister's not gay, she's just stupid."

"Fuck off!" Emily yelled, turning around violently, but her sister had already vanished.

"That was… interesting," Naomi said, pursing her lips.

"God, why can't she leave me alone? I'm sorry, I didn't have time to warn you… She's a bit of a bitch."

"Who? Are you talking about that totally balanced individual who just left? A bitch, really? I didn't notice a thing!"

The redhead smiled and seemed to calm down a great deal. Jerking her head towards the next room, she led the way into the kitchen, which seemed to include every single appliance on the face of the earth. And there was another flat-screen TV, hanging on the wall like a very expensive painting.

To Naomi's surprise, instead of stopping there, Emily walked straight across the room and opened another door. There was a path made out of stone slabs cutting through the grass, leading to a small vegetable garden, a hexagonal picnic table, and a small swimming pool. The garden was illuminated by several small-scale lampposts and a string of multi-colored fairy lights which were surrounding the perimeter.

"Now, this," the redhead said, in her raspy voice, "is me."


	5. Emily's garden

The little garden wasn't just "pretty" or "nice", like the rest of the house could be. It was enchanting, a hiding place within a hiding place, a tiny world of its own. Naomi followed the path until she reached the hexagonal picnic table, which was at the exact center, and sat on it. She loved it there, and wondered if she should tell Emily, in those exact words, which would be a bit like going against her own doctrine.

Meanwhile, the redhead had gone inside for drinks, refusing Naomi's help and ignoring her subsequent protests about how she wasn't a cripple. She returned holding a large pail between her hands and, when she put it down on the table, Naomi saw that it was full of ice cubes and beer bottles. Then, the girl extracted a bottle opener from her back pocket, removed the caps from two of the beers, and handed one to her.

She was about to say "thanks" when Emily held up her hands to indicate that she should wait, and skipped back into the house. Suddenly, the small lampposts all went out, and the tiny, different-colored light bulbs were the only illumination remaining in the garden.

The magic trick had now been completed. Naomi looked around, relishing in the cave-like effect that the lights created, even though there was an open sky above. Her eyes stopped when they found Emily, whose hair was now a dizzying mixture of blue, green, and burgundy. She found it physically impossible to look away while the girl approached her, and still, the sight suffocated her.

When the redhead reached her, Naomi tried to smile as if there was nothing the matter, even though something was definitely happening to her. Her chest started feeling heavy again, and she seized the edge of the table with her free hand as a way of keeping herself grounded. There was a big part of her striving for her to unleash, but she wasn't sure of knowing what that would imply in terms of the girl sitting next to her, and it terrorized her.

"It's lovely" she managed to say. "It's a lovely place."

From the corner of her eye, she could see Emily drinking. The girl nodded and wiped her lips with her middle finger. "Thanks. I really wanted you to see it."

Was this Emily's way of saying "I want you to know me"? Naomi took a long swig from her beer to numb the tornado of nerves that was forming in her stomach. She gathered that Emily wanted to be seen, perhaps to be recognized. It had already occurred to her that being around Emily made her bolder, more apparent. It moved her to have a voice, to acknowledge her own body, and turned her inside out. Maybe she hadn't gone to Bray to disappear, even if she had wanted to.

"Aren't you hungry?" Emily asked.

"Not really."

"Me neither." The girl uncapped another two bottles and handed her one. "You know, this place, this is like my safe place."

Naomi nodded, and then proceeded to down half the beer in one swig.

"I like to pretend that this is the only place in the world." There was a pause. "What I mean is… we can talk about anything here because nothing else really exists."

Gulping down the other half, Naomi set down the empty bottle between them and rolled her eyes to look at the redhead.

"And whatever you don't want to tell me, it's all right," Emily went on. "I mean, the things you don't want to say, I don't want to know them."

Her heart stopped beating inside her chest, paralyzed. She had only just realized it, but those words responded to an unknown need. She had always wanted to hear them, and yet they were coming from a person who barely knew her, who somehow had an extraordinary insight. The redhead had spoken slowly, carefully, perhaps afraid to scare her away, but Naomi was completely anchored to her seat, not moving a muscle.

However, one thing was to hear those words, and a different thing was to believe them.

"How do you…?" Naomi began, but then felt that she couldn't continue. _How do you know? How do you do that? _

To be known, to be seen - those were scary things. Apart from wanting them, Emily also seemed capable of understanding that to her they were complicated and dangerous.

"I just wanted you to know," Emily said, standing up and picking up the pail. "Come on, let's go sit by the pool. I love it over there."

Was the change of scenery just a way of moving the conversation away from an uncomfortable subject? Naomi could only guess, but she was thankful, and it was beautiful over there anyway. They pulled off their shoes, rolled up their pants, and sat on the edge of the swimming pool with their feet in the water. The little fairy lights created colorful reflections which looked like floating petals, and, every time their feet moved, they created small currents that made the reflections shiver.

They were silent for a little while, but Naomi didn't feel the need to end it. She accepted another beer and, this time, didn't drink it like medicine, she savored it, even though her heart was about to burst out of her chest.

The beer was starting to do its thing, simplifying her thoughts and numbing her fears. However, that only made her emotions more obvious. She felt overwhelmed by what was happening to her, how her insides moved and struggled. How could she affect her so much?

She turned to look at the redhead, wondering if the girl knew that she was trying to control an internal avalanche. But Emily was just softly kicking her feet and staring down at the shaky water.

"Thanks", Naomi said. "What you said… Thanks." _How are you so great?_

The redhead raised her head, smiled warmly, and reached out to grasp Naomi's hand, which was holding on to the edge of the pool. It felt like having the wind knocked out of her. She half-closed her eyes while she let Emily's fingers surround her hand and squeeze it, once, twice. That was it; brief, innocent contact, but it felt like neither.

"Are you cold?" the girl asked.

"Uh… what?" Naomi shook her head to snap out of it. "Cold? N-no, I don't think so."

"Right."

With that, Emily tossed the bottle opener into the pail, got up, and placed herself right behind Naomi. _What's going on?_

"Em, what are you…?"

Before she could finish formulating the question, she felt the girl's hands on her shoulders and then, there was water, water and bubbles everywhere. She had fallen headfirst into the pool, completely clothed. _What the fuck?_ She surfaced as fast as she could, with her hair plastered to her face and her clothes stuck to her body.

"You pushed me!" she shrieked, her voice high and incredulous. "I can't believe you fucking pushed me!"

"Believe me, I did, you're in the pool," the redhead said, smugly.

"Oh, you better run!"

Emily did heed her warning, but when Naomi managed to climb out of the swimming pool, the girl stopped, turned around, and sprinted towards her. _What is she doing?_ The redhead charged against her to throw her back into the water, but Naomi had effectively grabbed onto her hoodie, and so they both fell, causing a gigantic splash.

They sunk until their backs reached the tiled floor of the swimming pool, still clinging to each other. Naomi opened her eyes to see Emily, all slow-motion hair and puffed out cheeks. When they floated to the surface, Naomi let go of the girl to push her hair out of her face. They were both laughing hysterically.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you!" she cried, splashing water at Emily and panting for air.

Seemingly unimpressed by the threat, the redhead merely chuckled, climbed out of the pool, and helped her out. They stood facing each other, an inordinate amount of water dripping onto the grass under their feet. Emily was sniffling adorably between giggles, her little hands peeking from within the soaked sleeves of her hoodie. Both her hair and her clothes had darkened considerably, and her eyes looked big and shiny enough for the fairy lights to play tricks with them.

"We should, um…" Emily began, her voice barely louder than a whisper. "Get dry?"

She followed the redhead into the kitchen, where she told her to wait a minute while she went into the downstairs bathroom. When she emerged, the girl was wearing a white, fluffy, looking bathrobe and was carrying her wet clothes in her hands.

"I left you a couple of towels in there… I'll bring you something to wear."

Naomi followed the girl with her eyes until she exited the kitchen. Then, she went into the bathroom and closed the door behind her, letting out the deep breath she had been holding.

Her clothes were so drenched that she had to peel them off her body like a second skin; they dropped heavily on the floor, with a splat. She enveloped her body with a tower just in time to answer to Emily's knock on the door.

"Here," the girl said, holding a small pile of clothes like an offering. "I hope they're all right. If you give me your clothes, I'll put them in the drier."

After the door closed again, Naomi raised her hands, closed her eyes and smelled the clothes. They were clean, of course, but they were also part of Emily's scent. _I'm a freak_, she thought, snapping out of it. The green and white striped shirt turned out to be a Bray Wanderers shirt, and the ample sweatpants didn't quite reach her ankle.

When she exited the bathroom, she almost bumped into the redhead, who took her soaked clothes and then gave her the once-over, in a very different way than Katie. She giggled. They were both wearing Bray Wanderers shirts.

"Hey!" Naomi cried, in mock offense.

"The shirt suits you. The pants…"

"Say it, I dare you. The pants make me look like a hobbit."

"Are you calling _me_ a hobbit?" Emily asked.

"Of course not, you're small, these suit _you_ fine."

Emily laughed, shook her head, and looked up. "Maybe you should stay the night. We could watch a film."

"Really? Would that be okay?"

"Sure."

They stepped into the living room, sat on one of the comfy white sofas, and covered themselves with a big, soft blanket. Emily flicked through the channels, finally settling for a 'Friends' marathon, even if they seemed to know the episodes by heart. That was part of the fun, expecting the jokes and saying "Wait for it".

The redhead ended up curling up on her end of the sofa, and Naomi slowly sunk on hers. She could hear the girl's breathing getting deeper, lulling her. Feeling warm, content, and dozy, she pulled the neck of her shirt over her nose to capture more of that scent and fell asleep.


	6. Quinsborough Road

It looked like it was the middle of the night when Naomi awoke. The living room was dark, with the exception of the blinking light projected by TV screen. With squinted eyes, she sat up and kicked at the blanket to free her legs. She had slept soundly, but now her brain felt muddled. There were images running through her mind, and sensations through her spine. Something was telling her to get up and then get out, she realized, as her eyes fell upon the dormant figure.

Emily was curled up under the blanket on her end of the sofa, breathing steadily, and the sight was almost painful to look at, with her little nose peeking from under the blanket. Naomi crouched next to her, ignoring what her survival instinct was telling her and paying attention to that other, secret instinct she possessed, one that had to do with the redhead exclusively. Slowly, she brought up a tentative hand to the girl's messy hair and ran the tips of her fingers along her hairline.

"What are you doing?" she muttered, standing up and stepping back from the sleeping girl.

She hurried out of the living room, past the kitchen, and into the garden. The fairy lights seemed to greet her like an old friend, reminding her of Emily's kindness. Naomi rubbed her fingers together, where Emily had touched her, and walked towards the swimming pool to hunt for her shoes. That was where they had sat down, and that where they had stood after falling into the pool, where the redhead had seemed a bit nervous. This was the "safe place", as Emily had called it, where Naomi could say everything or nothing at all, and it would be okay either way.

Rubbing at her sleepy eyes, she concentrated on the impressions of Emily, resilient in her mind: her face, her eyes, her laugh, her husky voice, her shiny skin, and the brightness of her hair. Unwillingly, she remembered the shock of her touch, every little touch they had shared. The panic and exhilaration she felt by forcing her mind to relive those sensations were definitely not something she should be feeling.

And then there was the way Emily seemed to understand her without Naomi having to explain herself. That was terrifying. She had packed her things and booked a plane ticket to disappear, not to be seen and known. With a twinge of fear, she realized that there would be a moment when she wouldn't be able to wrestle that other part of her, because it was already getting increasingly harder, and she didn't even want to imagine what losing control could mean.

Leaving would do, for the moment. She picked up her shoes, went back into the living room, and retrieved her jacket from the chair, where she had left it hours ago. Then, she opened the front door as silently as she could, and left, pausing at the doorstep to put on her shoes.

The walk home was tiresome and strange. She encountered several groups of drunken people of mixed ages, and some of them whooped and cheered at her, or cried something about seagulls which she didn't understand.

When she finally got to Quinsborough Road, Naomi relaxed. It was hard not to. The neighborhood was charming even at night, with its large terraces and abundant, tall trees. Hers was one of the almost identical, three-story, grey buildings with white-framed windows and brightly colored doors. Naomi climbed the small flight of stairs, opened the yellow front door, and climbed a second flight of stairs to get to her small apartment.

It was more of a tiny studio than an apartment, with a living room adjacent to the kitchen and a wooden staircase that led to the bedroom. Only the bathroom was enclosed behind walls - the rest was all in plain sight, but Naomi loved it, precisely because its simplicity. Simple needs helped her to think simple.

To avoid more complicated thoughts, she decided to take a shower. That was when she noticed that she was still wearing Emily's clothes - her football shirt and sweatpants. Cradling her head between her hands, she wondered if that was the reason behind all those drunken cheers. Or maybe she was just a blonde girl walking home all by herself.

Generally she had an inflexible conscience about saving water, but this time, she needed the therapeutic qualities of a long shower. She took off those borrowed clothes and stepped into the tub, using most of the time to let the warm water wash over her, relishing in its calming effect. When she got out, she put on fresh underwear and a pair of jeans, and then her eyes fell on the green and white striped shirt.

"Fuck's sake," she muttered, picking it up and putting it on.

She padded around the studio in her socks, making coffee and munching on a Garibaldi biscuit while she swept the floor. Sleep wasn't an option and she knew it, because now she could stop imagining Emily, waking up and realizing that she was nowhere in sight. _You fucked up, you know that?_

As the first light of day started creeping into the apartment, Naomi poured herself a cup of coffee, sat on the sofa, and switched on her laptop. She opened a new browser window, typed a "y", clicked on "" and then wrote "driftin' blues" in the search box. There were many versions of the song, but she clicked on first video and waited, with her hands surrounding the steaming mug.

"I'm just driftin' and driftin', like a ship out on the sea. Every now and then I wonder if that little girl ever thinks of me". It was strangely absorbing. She was enthralled. She watched it seven times in a row and then suddenly shut her laptop because it was too much. The song only seemed to amplify her emotions. She got up and shook her hands, wanting to shake off what she felt, but she couldn't – it was deep inside of her.

The pressure in her chest became unbearable and Naomi felt like she couldn't breathe. She opened the window in a fury and stuck her head out, breathing out of her mouth. Then, something caught her eye, something unmistakable. It was Emily's orange scooter, parked in front of the house. _What the…?_ Naomi scanned the street, but didn't see the girl.

_What is this?_ She shut the window, found her trainers, and went out. It was Emily's bike all right, but why was there no sign of her? Naomi approached the scooter, circled it suspiciously, and then noticed something on its beige seat: a small, round pebble. Frowning, she picked it up and rolled it between her fingers. _Of course. _It was Emily's way of offering her a chance to talk, a way of giving her the option without forcing her.

Sighing, she pocketed the tiny rock and made her way down Quinsborough road, past the football field, towards the beach.

When she got to the promenade, Naomi paused. Straight ahead, sitting down like on that first day, was Emily. Her crimson hair was so distinctive against the backdrop of grey stones and dark-turquoise water that Naomi could see nothing else. Pressing her lips together, she climbed down from the promenade and walked straight to the girl with a strange feeling in her gut.

She reached the redhead, stood next to her for a moment, and then sat down. Emily didn't acknowledge her, eyes fixed on the waves ahead, and Naomi didn't know what to say. She had been afraid to lose Emily because of having fled her house in the middle of the night, but now, seeing that she hadn't lost her, Naomi was scared shitless.

"I got the message, Naomi, I'll manage," Emily said, finally, without diverting her eyes from the water.

"What? What message? I didn't send any… messages."

"Yes, you did."

"You'll 'manage'? What do you mean? Are you saying-?"

"I'm saying that last night, I wanted to kiss you," there was a pause. "I want to kiss you now."

Naomi opened her mouth, but no sound came out. She turned her head slowly and her eyes collided against Emily's. _Now_ she was looking at her, piercing her very soul with those brown eyes of hers.

"You… You…" she managed to mumble. "But you said-"

"I know what I said, and it _is_ nice spending time with you. More than nice. But I feel that if I don't say this I'm gonna explode. And I'm only doing it because I think you know, because I think that you feel something similar, and it scares you. That's why you ran away last night."

"What? You think that I…? But I'm not…"

"So?"

That angered her, because that was the problem, that she wasn't, or she believed she wasn't, but felt it anyway. "So? So? Look, I told you, just because _you're_ gay you think you can walk into my life and-?"

Emily interrupted her. "That would've been somebody else's cue, right there, to go ahead and kiss you. But I won't, because if I do you'll be tempted to say that I did it because I'm gay. And that's oversimplifying it - that's only part of it. I want to kiss you because I like you."

"You… You…?"

"I came down here because I wanted you to know that you can trust me, that I'll respect you… to tell you that I'll manage."

With that, the redhead stood up and walked away, leaving Naomi sitting there, panting as if she had just ran a marathon.


	7. Vodka in the garden

The Dargle was at peace, with its darkish waters lapping at the heavily vegetated banks. Naomi threw her head back towards the perfect blueness of the sky. With her hand inside her pocket, thumbing the pebble Emily had left for her, she begged for answers, but obtained nothing. _Fuck_. Sinking her fingers in her hair and then covering her face, Naomi moaned in desperation. Her distress was so palpable that people on the street had started to look, or so it seemed.

Everything was wrong and it was all Emily's fault. The redhead had shown her cards and now Naomi couldn't pretend that she was blind. Those words would float around them whenever they saw each other, hiding behind their exchanges, and she didn't know if she would be able to take it. Even though her first instinct was to blame Emily, the possibility of not going to her was nonexistent.

Swearing under her breath, Naomi made her way down Main Street and sauntered over to Finnbees, where she thought she distinguished Emily behind the counter. However, instead of going inside, she crossed the street, sat on a doorstep in front of the coffee shop, and waited, and smoked, and waited.

The redhead exited the coffee shop some time later, waved goodbye to two other girls, and then froze, looking straight at her with a serious face. It was as if she had detected Naomi's presence. _Do I really look that awful?_ she mused. _Nevermind._ Naomi crossed the street and stood before the girl, nervously biting the inside of her cheek. _Now what?_

"Hey," Emily said, quite tenderly. "You okay?"

_Oh, well, let's see… Yesterday you informed me that you liked me -liked me as in _fancied_ me-, and that you wanted to kiss me. Furthermore, you also seem to believe that I like you back. And, on top of everything, you would've kissed me, yesterday, at the beach, or even the night before, but you didn't. Why? Because you _respect_ me. So you stopped by to tell me that you'd manage. And now everything's _fine_, isn't it?_

"Yeah, I'm okay," she finally answered, detaching her eyes from Emily's face.

The previous day she had wanted to say that she wasn't gay, but the girl hadn't even let her finish, interrupting her with a single, lethal, one-worded question: "So?" Indeed. That was the only little fragment of reason she could've held on to, like a desperate mountain-climber trying to avoid the fall, but Emily had shaken it off like it was nothing, because she knew the deeper truth: that Naomi would have let her kiss her if she had tried. The certainty of that truth had kept her awake that night and it was making her look away now. Now that it had been said out loud, her pretense could no longer seem authentic.

"Can we go somewhere?" She was staring down at the tips of her shoes.

"Go where?"

"Anywhere." Her response was immediate and not unlike releasing a heavy load after carrying it around for a long time.

Further questions were seemingly unnecessary, as Emily was equally quick in nodding and leading the way to the orange scooter. Naomi secured her Greenpeace tote bag on the back of the bike and then climbed behind the redhead, sighing as their bodies came into contact when she surrounded her waist. For a moment she worried that the girl would feel her accelerated heartbeat through their clothes. Was that even possible?

She kept her eyes closed during most of the trip, inhaling the scent of Emily's hair, which was already archived in her mind. However, she had her suspicions about where they were headed, and these were confirmed when the familiar brick house appeared into view. Of course, Emily's garden had to be that "anywhere", that piece of nowhere Naomi thought she needed; the place where Emily had given her permission to just be, or say, or do anything.

"My sister's in Dublin," Emily said, perhaps wanting to reassure her in that respect.

Naomi nodded and sat directly on the grass, letting the colorful greeting of the fairy lights greet her like an old friend, relaxing her a bit. The stalkerish role she had played by waiting for Emily at her workplace had been so unlike herself that she would have never imagined being in that situation - and that scared her. It proved that she was losing control. Her front, her everything, was in peril.

When Emily joined her, sitting next to her, Naomi pushed her tote bag towards the girl.

"I brought you your clothes."

As contradictory as it sounded, the need to run away had been as intense as the need to run to Emily - run towards her, to do what, exactly? At that point, she always backpedalled in her mind. The effect of Emily's words the day before, the creeping sensation of knowing that the girl liked her and that she could probably read every one of her thoughts was immensely distracting. So much, in fact, that Naomi got lost inside the whirlwind of her own mind and realized only too late that Emily had been speaking.

"… Keep the shirt."

"What? The shirt?"

"Yeah, you like it, don't you? You were wearing it yesterday."

_I was wearing it yesterday because it was yours_. Emily knew the real reason, she was sure, but they were being very civil to each other now. _Is this how it's going to be?_ The girl had made it very clear the day before that the ball was in Naomi's court.

"After all, you're a Seagull now."

"Why does everyone keep mentioning seagulls around me?"

The redhead giggled. "_We're_ the Seagulls. It's the Wanderers' nickname."

"Oh… Right." Naomi gestured towards the bag. "I brought something else."

Emily peeked inside the bag and pulled out a large, transparent bottle. "Vodka. Are you planning on getting me drunk?"

She tilted her head in mock reflection and then shrugged, because she had planned on drinking it, with or without Emily. But it was better with Emily. "Maybe."

Breaking the bottle's seal, the girl inspected her with squinted eyes and then drank without detaching her eyes from Naomi.

"I listened to the song you mentioned the other night."

It seemed unnatural to say "the other night", for it felt like months ago had gone by since Emily had taken her to The Porter House. It was as if she had been feeling during a much longer time. _Feelings, yes, that's what they are_. Scrunching up her nose, Naomi got a hold of the bottle and took a swig. The drink burned down her throat and then settled in her stomach, dissolving slowly, but leaving behind a sensation of warmth which, combined with the setting, soothed her.

"Yeah? What did you think?" Emily gave a little, excited jump.

"It was… quite special."

"Yeah. You'd think this music's sad, but it doesn't have to be. It's like an echo, it kind of… walks with you?"

Yes... The song had made her heart swell and realize that she could be lost, but that didn't have to mean being alone if she didn't want to, because she wasn't condemned to it, not by destiny, or bad blood, not even by particularly annoying genes. It had been as if somebody had told her that she wasn't stuck inside a spiral and that she didn't need to run away - a piece of knowledge which had almost provoked a panic attack.

Closing her eyes for a minute, Naomi breathed out.

"Isn't it funny how we all want to live for years and years… but the days that count, that really change us, really make us feel something, are so few." Naomi locked eyes with the girl and drank from the bottle again before handing it to her.

The redhead raised her eyebrows. "Or you got to make them count."

"Yeah? How do you do that?"

"I guess… You go with your feelings. You do what you love." Emily said, almost at once.

"What's that, then?"

"Yeah, careful with that cynicism," the redhead wagged the bottle at her before drinking. "It might hit you in the face one day."

"How?" she looked away, innocently. "You mean like this?"

Naomi lashed out with her right arm, gently slapping Emily on the nose with the back of her hand.

"What the fuck?" Emily cried, laughing and pushing her.

The vodka bottle dropped with a dry thud and rolled out of the way. Naomi followed it with the corner of her eye, becoming aware that she was prostrate on the ground, with a certain girl on top of her, and the short blades of grass tickling her cheek.

"Now what?" the redhead asked, accentuating her words with an additional shove.

"Now the grass's gonna get pissed," Naomi answered, jerking her head towards the bottle.

"Don't care. I'm not letting you go."

Her arms were pinned down, but her legs were free. Grinning, Naomi took a moment to note the absurdity of the situation before jerking her hips and pushing Emily off with her legs. In one fell swoop, she rolled on top of the girl, immobilizing her quite easily.

_Now what? _she mused, echoing Emily's question. Not only were they closer than they had ever been, but she was sitting astride the redhead, securing her arms against the ground. The inevitability she had associated with Emily ever since she had first set eyes on her was now more powerful than ever. Before, she hadn't known what to do with it -or had been too terrified to imagine-, but the chaos in her brain had now turned to urgent and astonishing clarity. The more her brain told her to react against what was happening to her, the more her instincts pushed her towards the girl.

And now, it had come to this. Emily had stopped squirming and was simply looking at her with her enormous brown eyes, waiting. Naomi breathed out and bowed her head until their noses touched and the girl's face became a one-eyed blur. She closed her eyes, feeling Emily's soft breath on her face, and released her arms. Still, the redhead didn't try to free herself, didn't even move an inch, although an inch would have made all the difference. Whether it was an inch or a mile, Naomi knew that it was up to her, and it was too much.

She opened her eyes and pulled away, rolling off from the girl altogether and returning to a sitting position, hugging her bunched up legs. "Sorry."

Emily sat up, frowning. "What are you sorry for?"

"Dunno." With a great effort, she pushed herself to a standing position and paced towards the swimming pool, nervously rubbing her hands up and down her legs.

"I'm not gonna ask you why," Emily began. "But it's like… you avoid, you hold back, and I can't figure out if you do it because you're scared that something bad's gonna happen to you, or something good."

It was the fucking clarity, the fucking certainty - _that _was what was killing her. She sat and stared down at the shadowy water.

Emily's reflection appeared next to hers, but the girl kept her distance. "I didn't want to upset you. Do you want me to take you home?"

"I'll be fine in a minute," she answered, swallowing her tears and inwardly cursing at herself for being such a ridiculous dick.

It had been an automatic response, one which the redhead would have to respect, even though it was utter bullshit. _You'd do that, wouldn't you? _They had an agreement. If she wanted to change it, she would have to take a step.

"I don't want good things to happen to me," she said, through clenched teeth. "You get used to the good too easily, soon you start needing it. But the good always disappears."

"Does it?" Emily asked, stepping closer.

"Always has." She smiled, shaking her head.

"Well, it doesn't have to."

Fairytales, if not lies. She turned to look at Emily, prepared to answer with all the sarcasm in the world, but the girl's face stopped her. With those hopeful, shiny eyes and that unfaltering, little smile, Emily was asking her to believe.

And believing meant accepting the certainty and crossing the distance. Naomi leaned in very slowly, until she reached the redhead. Her parted lips touched Emily's, barely stroking them, closing her lips around the girl's only when it became unbearable. And only then did she feel Emily kissing back.

She frowned at the intensity of having their lips pressed tightly together, thinking that she'd never felt anything so soft. They separated for a moment, and the air caught in her throat as she saw Emily licking her lips before moving forward once more. She captured Emily's lips between her own, releasing them slowly, while Emily brought a hand to the back of her head and moved her lips to Naomi's cheek, her jawline, and then down her neck. Those delicate, tiny, butterfly kisses made Naomi gasp and open her eyes. And, when the redhead promptly kissed her neck again, she had to draw back, because it was too much, because intense feelings had always made her recoil.

"Jesus, you're killing me," she said, smiling at what the redhead had done to her in just a few seconds.

"We could stop."

Naomi bit her lower lip, tasting a little bit of Emily and little bit of vodka. Her hands, which had been firmly planted on the grass for support, now moved. One traced Emily's hairline, down the side of her face and her lips. She watched in amazement as the redhead's eyes closed; an image so beautiful that it was painful to watch.


End file.
